this is not the end of me (this is the beginning)
by CharmedGatekeeper
Summary: A collection of CS oneshots. (Rating and genres may vary)
1. You will find him

_**I'm working on a hundred and one different stories at the moment, and the exams are draining away my muse and my enthusiasm, so forgive me if you sent a prompt and it's taking a while. It will come in the summer, I promise.**_

* * *

"You will find him."

She doesn't seem to flinch at his voice, even though he has been standing in the shadows for the past few minutes. He knows this ship like the back of his hand; he knows where to go to be unseen. The prince and his wife had retired to bed, as had the grim-faced queen. He wasn't sure what the Dark One was doing, and he tried to block it out. The very fact that the Crocodile was on his ship, heading to the land he himself hated the most - as the _guest of honour_ \- didn't sit well with him. He wanted nothing more than to make him walk the plank and pray to the gods that he'd be done with it, but it wasn't that simple. Besides, he was keeping the peace, for one reason. One person.

She's tense, her hunched shoulders and white hands gripping the railing tell as much. He cannot tell what ails her this time –

– that is until he hears it.

A loud, piercing cry cuts through the silence, anguished and pained. Another follows, and another. The Lost Boys, crying for families gone and lives lost. He can almost see the weight pounding down on her shoulders as each one echoes across the sea. He can feel it too, their pain hitting a hidden, vulnerable place in his battered heart.

 _Once an orphan, always an orphan._

"Swan," he tries again, tries to break through to her. He walks closer, the heels of his boots tapping on the worn wood of the deck. He touches her arm gently, not thinking.

She stiffens, her jaw clenching. Slowly, she turns to look at him, her walls rising tall and fast between them.

(She's hiding again.)

(He knows not to push her.)

Drawing his arm away, he reaches into a pocket of his heavy leather coat, pulling out a small black flask. He gives her a sly smile and hands it to her.

Emma snorts, lips twitching, and he almost grins in victory - he got a smile.

"Is rum your solution to everything?" She asks in weary disbelief.

"It can't hurt," he replies simply, smirking a bit.

She takes it, twisting the cork out of place and taking a long swig. Then she wipes her mouth and passes the flask back to him, nodding her thanks. It's hard to believe she could have been - that she is - royal, a princess. She's so much more than a princess.

"I can't help thinking..." Emma begins, picking absently at a splinter of wood on the railing. She frowns, her green eyes dull with exhaustion and worry. "...Henry's out there somewhere, alone, and probably scared out of his mind." She stares out to sea, voicing fears that he knows she wouldn't usually share. "What if he gives up on us? What if something happens to him? What if-"

"Emma," he says quietly, her name slipping off his tongue as if he's used it all his life. "You will find Henry, and he'll be fine." He smiles, a genuine smile that probably hadn't been seen since before Liam died. It was then that it all started, that he began a journey into darkness.

(Maybe he has found the light that could save him.)

His words have the desired effect. She manages a tight smile, nodding at him. "Thank you, Ho- Killian. For bringing us here. For helping."

Killian feels a shy smile creeping into his face and he scratches behind his ear. His own reaction startles him – he thinks that reaction would be more suited to his younger self, to a bashful navy lieutenant that he scarcely knows now. _She used his real name._ "It was nothing, love. Couldn't let you lose your boy."

She tilts her head slightly, a small, knowing smile curling her lips. He knows she can tell it's not just nothing. How uncomfortable he is with a demon on his ship, destined for Neverland.

 _"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?"_

 _"You and I, we understand each other."_

It's not long before Emma breaks her gaze from his, and the walls are coming between them again. The moment is lost. Strangely, Killian accepts this. He knows this will happen until she learns to trust him, until she realises that there is an honourable man under the leather and the eyeliner.

He once let his revenge define him, let reputation precede him. He let the pirate and the hook become him, let the real Killian Jones be buried under years of rage and heartbreak and a thirst for vengeance. Not anymore. It's time for a shot at redemption.

(Maybe he can be the hero Liam always said he would be.)

"You should get some sleep," Killian murmurs to her, after a long silence. "We'll be in Neverland soon, you won't be able to rest much once we arrive there."

Emma nods slowly, chewing her lip. He knows that she won't be able to rest until her son is with her again. But her eyes are drooping slowly, her legs swaying slightly. Eventually, she seems to give in. She bids him a soft goodnight and slowly makes her way below the deck.

It's a few more moments before he makes his way back to the wheel, fingers and hook gently tracing the worn wood. It's an absent movement. His mind is somewhere else – it's with the blonde saviour in the crew's cabin.

Slowly, a soft smile curls his lips. Emma Swan had his heart.

Now he had to hope he'd win hers.


	2. true love (can chase away the dark)

_**This is a short drabbly bit I wrote for a CS Challenge on Tumblr, and I decided to post it here.**_

 _ **Please don't read if you haven't seen 4x22! Contains spoilers!**_

* * *

The light that surrounds them is golden yellow when his lips touch hers.

He had dreamt of this moment for months, her green eyes haunting him when he closed his, her laughter ringing in his ears when he sat alone in Granny's as he pored over the Sorcerer's old notes. He had worked desperately to try and find her.

They finally found a lead a few weeks ago, they had finally found her. He hadn't even thought about it when he saw her. Her name fell from his lips, and he pulled her close.

He can feel her trying to get away from him, pushing at his chest. Her magic is pulsing around them, the darkness surrounding them. But, slowly, achingly slow, he can feel the darkness fading. He can feel the Dark One leaving, his Swan coming back to him.

There's a loud roar in his ears, and the next thing he knows, they're both on the ground, and she's in his arms, clutching on as tightly as he is, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You found me," she whispers, a broken laugh escaping her lips. "Oh God, you found me."

"Aye," is all he can manage to say, his voice breaking with the emotion building inside him. He buries his face in her neck, holding her close.

He can't let go. He _won't let go._

He can't care less what happens now, not in this moment. All he knows is that his Swan is back in his arms, safe and sound.

(Later, when the darkness is gone and they're both alone, he offers her the softest of smiles. "You're quite rude, lass. You never gave me a chance to reply."

She laughs a little, raising an eyebrow at him with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes and _gods, he missed her._ "What do you mean?"

"I love you too, Emma.")


	3. Morning Bliss

_**I wrote this for a challenge on Tumblr, and now I'm going to post it here. Enjoy!**_

* * *

Emma loves the mornings.

There was a time when she hated them, when all she could think about was the "lovesick couples" who stayed in bed and laughed and grinned like idiots at each other, while she got up at six to chase after some punk who was wanted for fraud. There was a time where she didn't enjoy anything to do with mornings - a lumpy mattress, no heating, sour milk and cereal that tasted like cardboard. There was a time when she couldn't stand them.

There was a time when the thought of them made her want to cry over what she couldn't have. What she thought she wouldn't ever have.

But now she had those things.

Now she loves mornings.

Usually Killian wakes up first, only because he's still a navy lieutenant at heart, who rises with the sun.

(The pirate only comes out at night.)

He usually wakes her gently, slowly. He kisses down her jaw gently, a light nip at her neck, a teasing glide of calloused fingers down her (incredibly ticklish) side. This happens every single morning, and it never fails to make her feel warm and fuzzy and loved. So, so loved.

(The lost girl has long since quietened.)

However, she prefers it when she wakes first. It's a rare occurrence, but she feels that her day starts off so much better if she wakes first. Killian looks blissful and almost boyish in sleep. Sometimes she can't bring herself to wake him, he just looks so adorable.

(She actually said that to him once.

"I'll show you _adorable_ ," he had said in reply, tossing her over his shoulder with a cheeky smirk.)

That little disgruntled whine he makes when he's starting to wake is even more adorable. It's always the same – the little whine, his nose scrunches up and he buries his face in the plump pillow, his dark hair sticking up at all angles.

And, sometimes, when he's really reluctant to leave the bed, he holds her close and rests his head on her shoulder, lips brushing her neck as he breathes, a happy hum escaping him.

"Five more minutes," he grumbles softly, his voice gruff and tainted heavily with the cobwebs of sleep.

She pretends that she doesn't like it as much as she does. She pretends that little kiss she presses to his forehead means nothing, or that wide grin on her face when he sighs at her touch.

(She adores mornings.)


	4. New Hope

**_A small drabble I wrote today, based on the 5x13 sneak peak. Possible spoilers, obviously._**

* * *

She's walking down Main Street when she sees her.

It's been twelve hours since she saw Killian. Twelve long hours since she saw the battered version of her love, the broken man he had become in his short time down in hell. And it's her fault. All her fault.

(If she hadn't been so selfish. If she had only listened the first time and let him go. If she had let her family help her sooner. If she hadn't taken that dagger and tried to be a hero…

If.)

The flashing image of him is seared in her memory, haunting her whenever she closes her eyes, overwhelming her whenever she stops. She just can't get it out of her head, and it makes her feel ill. She can't think about it, she can't, she can't. She needs to keep moving, even if that means leaving her family in Granny's to walk around this messed-up version of Storybrooke.

"Help! Someone please help!"

Emma spins and sees the girl, racing away from the library at top speed. She's dressed in tattered cloth, her hair in a disarray and a wide-eyed, terrified look on her young face. It's a stark contrast to the blank look almost every other inhabitant of this town wears.

"Please help!" The girl is looking straight at her now, a deer in the headlights. She races closer. "Please – I need to find Emma Swan."

Several thoughts race through her head – how does she know her name, what's going on? – before Emma replies. "I'm Emma Swan."

The girl sighs, shoulders sagging. Emma can now see the exhaustion, in the dark circles and the gauntness of her face. But those details make little impression on her. It's the words that fall from the girl's lips that catch her attention. "Please, Emma – I was sent to find you. He needs your help."

A little spark of hope creeps into Emma's heart. "Who?"

"Captain Killian Jones – Captain Hook. He needs you. He needs you to find him."

Once, she would have convinced herself that this was a trap – that she would never find him, that she would end up dead before she could try. But she knows now. She knows she can do it. She knows that she can find him. She will find him. She will save him. Always.

And at last, Emma Swan allows herself to believe.


	5. balm to the soul

**_I had "Let It All Go" by Birdy playing on repeat while I was writing this. That might explain something._**

 ** _This was also written before 5x14, so it may not be exactly up to date with canon._**

* * *

The first thing that Emma does when they step into their house is sigh. There are a lot of conflicting emotions running through her right now. There's relief, relief that they had finally found him and that he was in her arms, safe. There's anger – there's nothing that she'd love more than to hunt Hades down and rip him a new one. And there's hate, self-loathing - _it's your fault he was sent down here in the first place, you're the reason he's suffered so much_. But there's only one person that is at the forefront of her mind right now, and he's right by her side.

Killian is leaning heavily against her. He's weak and exhausted, Emma saw that much when she first laid eyes on him in Hades' dungeon. But the thing that struck her was how _broken_ he looked. There was hardly any light left in his eyes, only a tiny spark of hope. She knew that he would not have been able to stand much more of the torture he had been enduring.

She's glad she found him when she did.

"Come on," she whispers, wrapping her arm a little tighter around his back. "Let's get you cleaned up."

He nods silently, the lack of energy in the movement only spiking her concern.

She leads him to the bathroom, helping him to sit on the edge of the bath. He's quiet and subdued, blood crusted on his face and body. He says nothing when she starts to run the water, or when she tosses in a capful of bath creme.

The leather of his jacket is stuck to his skin from the burns he sustained, and though he tries to hide his winces as she carefully peels it off, she still sees them. It's worse when she starts to pull the cotton of his shirt away.

He flinches when she reaches for his brace, then clenches his jaw in what she knows is a sign of self-loathing. She cups the side of his face, running her thumb along his cheekbone. A little bubble of warmth appears in her chest when he leans into the touch. She helps him out of the rest of his clothes, quietly slipping the brace off last. He refuses to look at her after that, and she has no idea why. She's seen all of him before. She _loves_ all of him. Can he not see that?

The warmth dims slightly.

Slowly, she helps him into the warm water, turning off the taps. She can remember the first time she showed him the baths in her world – the awe on his face when he realised that hot water was practically instant. He'd taken one that night, putting way too much bubble bath in the water and grinning at her, the scent of lavender clinging to his flushed skin when she curled up next to him on the couch afterward.

She swallows a small sob at the memory.

She starts to wash away the dirt and the blood, rubbing a cloth gently over his skin. Killian is placid under her touch, silent and eyes closed tight. She almost wishes she could see into his mind, because she can't read him as well as she could before. Not at the moment anyway.

She helps him out again, letting out the now brown water. She helps him dry himself and dress in a pair of grey loose sweatpants and a black cotton t-shirt. The scars and bruises that litter his body are hidden under the fabric, but they are still burned into her memory. He's still moving gingerly, still limping, still in pain.

Does he hate the fact that she's helping him? Does he feel helpless? Or is he trying to keep his demons at bay, just like she is? Can he still feel the darkness clutching at him, calling for him, like she does?

Is this what he has been fighting for _her_ , all this time?

He is still silent as she guides him to the bed, resting a gentle hand on his arm. She moves her hand to his face, palm over his cheek. She calls on her magic like she's done so many times before, focusing on her love for this man and not the time when she tried to heal him before, the time it didn't work. The time –

 _No, Emma. Focus._

The glow from her palm casts a soft light over his face, the cuts and bruises disappearing in an instant. The swelling of his eye goes down, the injuries elsewhere on his body begin to fade. She's starting on his legs when he stops her. "Emma," he croaks, "that's enough."

It's the first time he's spoken since they left Hades' lair.

She looks up at him, seeing the sudden shine in his eyes. Her heart aching, she immediately shoots up and sits beside him on the bed, pulling him into her embrace. His face finds its way into the crook of her neck, nose tucked against her collarbone and warm tears dampening her skin. Then he starts whispering apologies, voice rough from underuse and so _raw_ , and she just can't keep it together. She can't. Not when Killian Jones, after everything that's happened and all the suffering he's been through, is apologising for things he had no control over.

It makes her hate herself a bit more, actually. She took away his choice. It's her fault he's here.

Now is not the time to berate herself. She still has to find a way out of the Underworld, she has to find a way to bring Killian back with her.

But, just for a moment, she'll allow herself this bit of weakness. She'll allow herself to hold her love close. The emotional wounds will take a lot longer than the physical ones. But she knows that they can do it. They will heal. She presses a kiss to Killian's head and rests her chin there gently, letting out another shaky sigh.

Yes, it will be tough. But they will do it like they have done everything else.

 _Together._


	6. The Choice

**_I wrote this and posted it to Tumblr ages ago, and I realised that I never posted it here! 5x15 spec fic :)_**

* * *

He could do it, he thinks. He could move on. He could find peace.

Peace is all he has wanted for a long time now. Peace was something that he thought was forever beyond his reach, something he thought had disappeared the very moment he declared munity and turned his back on the Crown he had served for so long.

The same Crown that tricked him, that took his brother from him.

Liam is here now, and he's holding out his hand to him. The brother he lost, the brother he tried to avenge through piracy. The man that he had _always_ looked up to. There is a chance for Killian to be with him again. He could walk through with him to the light and never have to worry again. The fighting would be over. He could finally rest.

He can smell the sea breeze, can just barely make out bright blue skies and a ship's deck ahead. It all just beyond the light. And it's _beautiful_. All he needs to do is walk through.

But then he looks back, back the stone ledge. And there she is.

Emma. The woman who pulled him out of the darkness. The woman who, despite the odds, has fought tooth and nail to get to him, who has literally gone through the bowels of Hell just to find him. The woman who accepted his decision to move on, no matter how much it hurt her. A weak smile pulls the corners of her lips when their eyes meet, even as the tears roll down her cheeks.

She would be better off without him. That's what he has been trying to convince himself these past few hours. But then his memory flashes to the crib in the living room – a symbol of Emma's unfinished business, but also a symbol of what he is leaving behind. They could live together. They could start a _family_ together.

 _They could have a future together._

He turns back to Liam. Killian knows from the look on his brother's face that he's figured it out. Of course he has. Maybe he knew all along. "We will meet again, little brother," he murmurs.

"Younger," Killian mumbles with a little broken laugh. He pulls Liam into a crushing embrace, burying his face into his shoulder one last time.

"Now, don't blubber on me, Kil," Liam teases, his voice unsteady. Killian laughs once more, pulling away. Liam smiles a little. "Take care, won't you?"

Killian nods, a lump forming in his throat. It's his own choice, but _bloody hell_ , it's like he's losing him again. But that feeling only lasts a second. Liam is finally free, and he's going to a better place. And they will meet again. He is sure of it.

Then he gets a clap on the back, one final bright smile, and Liam is gone.

Killian turns back to the group waiting at the other side of the bridge, to the blonde angel in red leather. She's staring at him as if she's seeing him for the last time. She probably thinks that it is the last time. But then he starts to walk, one step after another, watching as confusion laces her delicate features. That confusion slowly disappears as he comes closer, her green eyes widening. Then he can't take it anymore. He starts to run, racing toward her.

"Killian!" she gasps when he reaches her, her arms wrapping around his neck almost automatically. "What are you – why – you were supposed to _go_ – I –"

He smiles down at her. "What can I say, love? It seems I've got a little fight left in me."

She chuckles a little laugh that sounds more like a pained whimper and leans up to press her lips to his, and he swears he feels light fill him from head to toe.

"So…" Henry interrupts them, and Killian can't help but chuckle at the distaste on the lad's face. "Operation Firebird is still on?"

He feels Emma lean into him, and he immediately wraps his arm around her. "Yeah, kid," she says, her voice taking on that determined tone it does when she slips into Saviour mode.

"It's time that Hades gets what's coming to him."


End file.
